


The Little People

by GeneralGray



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Fluff, Humor, Jack has 4, M/M, Rem and Grey have 2 braincells collectively, THEY ARE VERY GAY, he has to share
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 02:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17520650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralGray/pseuds/GeneralGray
Summary: Rem Larbec is a very young pilot of the Resistance,  who was sent on a mission to Gilvaanen, but because of his mistake, his companion astrodroid R5-J3 and he end up at the Outer Rim Territories, on Tatooine. To proceed with his mission Rem needs to purchase a protocol droid, but ends up finding a human companion – Grey – a young interpreter, who doesn’t take credits from Rem, but instead asks the pilot to get him off of the desert planet.





	The Little People

 

Is there anything you don't already know about Tatooine? It is a planet, which is the furthest from the center of the galaxy, completely covered in sand and has no bodies of water on it. Although some people admire its valleys and dunes and canyons and are attracted to the planets dangerous nature, wildlife of which is to be conquered by the bravest and strongest people in the universe, to most it's just a dry and hot ball of sand with a lot of history.

Sure, the legendary status of the planet is undeniable. There was a brief period of time when the planets name was featured in history textbooks which were used in schools and academies all around the galaxy. But when the First Order took over, any mention of the planet was erased from texts, and the legendary status vanished.

There is another undeniable thing about Tatooine, upon which both the heat-loving daredevils and the sand-haters had agreed a long time ago. Tatooine's sky was gorgeous.

That day the sky of Tatooine was clear. In fact, it was so clear, that if it wasn’t for the two suns shining above, you could see the stars. Especially one particular star, which suddenly appeared among the others, and was growing in size with every passing second. And if you were to stare at it for a bit longer you would make out that the shooting star resembled a Corellian freighter. The ship was approaching planet’s surface at a great speed and there was no doubt it was about to crash. To say that the pilot of the said ship was scared meant to say nothing. Not only was he terrified, he was startled by the series of events which had occurred in the past 10 minutes or so. However to his own surprise the pilot was able to regain control of the craft, which saved his little companion and him if not from certain death, but at least from several severe injuries. The freighter by the name of Moonshine skipped on the sandy surface of Tatooine like a rock on water, and after 2 or 3 skips it finally stopped as it was already halfway buried in hot sand.

“God damnit, Jack!” yelled the pilot when a cloud of dust and sand caused by Moonshine’s emergency landing had settled. “God damnit! When I tell you to jump anywhere else by that I mean anywhere else SAFE.”

The pilot was the one Rem Larbec. It was his first proper mission as a part of Resistance and he didn't want to mess it up, although the fate had other plans in mind. You see, he along with his R5-J3 astrodroid was heating up the hyperdrive in order to make a jump to their destination. But they decided to take their sweet time to make the calculations, and because of that delay unfortunately they were spotted by the First Orders’ fleet. The captain of their ship asked the permission to board Moonshine in order to search the freighter. If they were to check R5’s memory, the mission and most importantly they were doomed.  Rem had a decision to make. Either he fails the mission of the Rebellion or jumps without calculations, putting him and his crew (which consisted of only the astrodroid) at danger. He wasn't in the mood to give up so easily, nor to surrender to the First Order, so he chose the latter. He asked his R5 unit to put their ship “anywhere else but here”. The hyperdrive was ready and Jack followed the order perfectly. Although, as you all know by now, hyper jumping without calculations may lead to terrible consequences. If the coordinates of the hyperjump are not calculated in advance you may end up in an asteroid field or near an exploding star or even a bit too close to a black hole then it is comfortable for you. Partially Rem was happy that Jack and he did not end up in an asteroid field or on the other side of a black hole. He was still alive and not in the cold and demanding hands of the First Order. He felt like the luckiest man in the Universe. It wouldn’t be the only time he would feel like one that day.

However some anxieties still remained. He didn't know whether the Moonshine was operational. Nor he did know how much fuel they had left.

Rem was sitting in the cockpit, his body senseless and his arms and legs numb, dangling like the ones of a ragdoll.

He heard a string of distressed beeping and screeching from behind his chair. It seemed that his tone had upset Jack. Rem looked behind his chair, and indeed, there was a scared R5 unit trembling with fear. Rem let out an apologetic sigh and put a hand on top of Jack’s “head”, which seemed to calm the droid down.

“First off, are you OK?” Rem asked in a concerned voice.

The droid suddenly looked into the distance as if it was deep in thoughts. Actually it was conducting an internal scan. Then Jack let out a victorious beep, signifying that he was fully operational. Rem sighed in relief. He wouldn’t be able to escape the enemy’s fleet without Jack’s help, and sure as hell he wouldn’t last more than 10 minutes in a desert of an unfamiliar planet without him.

“I’m sorry buddy. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I just don’t really know what to do now.” Rem shook his head to clear his mind just a bit. In reality it only made his chestnut hair look disheveled and gave him a throbbing headache. He needed to think through their further actions and to make sure they are able to carry on their mission.

“Alright. I’m going to check the damage, and you go find out everything you can about this planet, got it?” Rem addressed his trustworthy companion. Jack beeped in response and immediately started checking their coordinates and comparing them to his database. Rem stood up and decided to check out the outside damage first.

He hopped out of Moonshine only to be met by a burst of hot burning air, two insufferably bright suns and an endless sea of sand, which almost devoured his high black boots.

“Great. Just wonderful,” he groaned, squinting and shielding his eyes from the suns.

The external damage wasn’t as bad as he thought it was. He thought he felt the First Order ships hitting Moonshine once or twice with their shots, but aside from some burned patches on the hull from entering the planet’s atmosphere and scratches from the collision with the surface the ship was fine.

Rem hurried to get inside before his skin gets even tanner. Then he checked on Jack, who still was in the cockpit.

“Any luck?”

Jack turned his head to the sound source and screeched in frustration.

“Fine, keep searching. I’ll go down and check on the engines. Oh, one more thing! Check the amount of fuel and report back after you’re done, please?”

Rem left the room and Jack continued his research.

The men opened up a hatch in the middle of a hall which led to the engine room and immediately was hit by a cloud of dark smoke.

“Oh no. No-no-no-no NO!” Rem repeated in denial. “Please, not the hyperdrive. Anything else but the hyperdrive!”

He took of his leather pilot jacket, provided by the Resistance, and went down the ladder to the engine room.

“Why is the most fucking important part of a ship always so fragile?” he cried out in frustration. Full of hope, he checked the regular engine, which was perfectly operational. Suddenly the amount of light coming to the engine room from the hall became smaller and Rem jerked his head up. Jack was standing at the hatch, beeping happily.

“Oh hey buddy! I’ve got some good new and some bad news. I’ll finish in a second.”

Rem got up from the floor, kicked the hyperdrive as if by malfunctioning it had offended him personally, and climbed back up.

“So,” Rem started when they were both back at the cockpit, “the bad news is that the hyperdrive is completely busted. The good news (if you can even call it that) is that the engine is still working, so flying around the planet won’t be a problem, if we have enough fuel.”

Jack exclaimed happily and informed his companion that they indeed had enough fuel, almost the full tank. He also had found out some information about the planet. They crashed on Tatooine, and not so far from the famous (among some particular circles at least) Mos Eisley spaceport.

A plan immerged from the depths of Rem’s brain and he started implementing it without a delay.

In 20 minutes Moonshine successfully was docked at one of Mos Eisley’s hangars and Rem was on his way to the marketplace. He ordered Jack to watch over the ship and to contact him if there was any trouble. He also decided to leave his jacket behind, since he figured that the locals don’t take kindly to people from the Resistance, leaving him in a plain shirt, which probably was white originally, but due to his adventurous lifestyle obtained a yellowish, sandy tint.

An affordable hyperdrive was easy enough to find. But in order to complete “the mission” he needed a protocol droid. This was a real challenge, as the saleswoman in the shop where he bought the hyperdrive warned him, that she hadn’t seen one in years. Rem didn’t believe her at first, but as he continued his search her words would pop up in his mind more and more frequently. After a few hours of stumbling around the marketplace he was fatigued and desperate. He came back to the Tholothian saleswoman, who had already delivered a new hyperdrive to his handar, for a piece of advice.

“I don’t know how to help you, kid,” she said. “Although there is a slight chance that maybe a traveler or a smuggler has a protocol droid laying around that you can purchase.”

“I sure hope so,” Rem sighed.

“Listen. Go to the Chalmun's Cantina and ask the bartender if anyone’s selling a droid. I’m positive someone has a spare one they’re not too emotionally attached to,” she put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. Rem smiled back. He’d lost and regained hope several times that day, and it felt like he was on a rollercoaster. Was that how it felt to be a part of the Resistance?

After getting detailed directions to the cantina, Rem thanked her, gave her a couple of credits for the trouble and was on his way.

Moonshine crashed on Tatooine when the suns were at their zenith, and they were setting when he finally reached the place.

Rem entered the cantina. The thirst thing he noticed was the thick scent of alcohol, smoke and sweat, which was unpleasant to say the least. He also noticed that the temperature inside was a lot higher than outside, which made the smell of the cantina completely unbearable. But Rem had a job to do, so he put on the most confident expression he could squeeze out of himself and came up to the counter. Rem took a seat and asked an unfriendly looking bartender for a drink in the most casual and absolutely not distressed manner.

“Are you even allowed to drink, boy?” the bartender laughed. Rem turned beet red at that question.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been allowed to drink in most systems since last summer!” he wanted to protest at the mockery, but decided not to.

Only now he begun to realize, what kind of folk surrounded him. Thugs, muggers, assassins, pirates – criminals of all shapes and sizes from all around the Galaxy gathered there every day. He knew the risks, he understood the danger, and he felt the unsettling glances which the other customers gave him. And at that moment he tried not to think about what these brutes might do to him if they find out that he’s a part of the Resistance. He only hoped that one of these thugs just happens to be selling a protocol droid. 

“Hey, buddy,” he addressed the bartender again, “do you know anybody who might want to sell a protocol droid?”.

The bartender turned to him, and then his saggy skin followed the motion.

“A Croulute, for sure,” Rem thought to himself, trying as hard as he could not to flinch.

“Well, _buddy_ , why’d you need one in ‘ese parts?” the bartender answered while pouring a drink to another costumer with his huge wrinkly hands.

“I don’t need one _in these parts_. I need it to interpret for me on Gilvaanen,” Rem explained.

“Well you won’t find one on this planet, lemme tell you that.”

And before Rem decided to get up, go to the hangar, install the hyperdrive and buy a protocol droid in a completely different sector, the bartender put up one of his fat fingers to grab Rem’s attention.

“But!” he continued, “You must be the luckiest man in the Universe, ‘cause there is a guy who can help you. Don’t know much ‘bout him, but what _I_ know is that _he_ knows lotta languages.”

“WHERE CAN I FIND HIM?” Rem almost jumped in his seat. The bartender was talking slowly and conspiratorially, and Rem was already losing his patience.

“Calm your tauntauns, boy. He’s over there” the bartender pointed to a table in the dark corner of the cantina. Rem turned his head in that direction and squinted.

There was a man at that table sitting with his legs crossed, human at the first glance, not much older than Rem himself. He was dressed in black head to toe: a plain black shirt with a stand-up collar tucked into black pants with a black belt, high black boots covered in dust and sand, and a long black hooded robe. Rem was surprised that a sane person could wear so many layers of clothes under such weather conditions. The man himself was blonde and extremely pale, which signified that he wasn’t local. His dark eyebrows were furrowed in a concentrated expression. His face was illuminated by several blue holographic screens, and the man was typing something on them, mumbling under his breath.

“Thank you,” said Rem to the bartender without turning to him, picked up his drink and went up to the guy’s table.

“Hey, uh,” said Rem so that the guy would draw his attention to his potential employer. The guy turned his eyes to him and looked Rem up and down, then turned off all the holograms, put a chin in his palm and raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, may I sit with you?”

“Please do” smiled the blonde shyly. He took a sip of his drink, watching Rem sit down. He put his glass down and leaned in a little bit closer to Rem, staring at him with great interest.

“So, how can I help you?” the guy asked in a soft voice, looking right into Rem’s eyes.

“The bartender told me about you.”

“Oh,” both his voice and his face dropped. Then he shook his head a little, straightened his back, put both of his hands on the table and smiled politely.

“Well, what can I help you with?” he asked again in a cheerful and least flirty manner.

“I need someone to interpret for me. But I don’t think you’re fit for the job.”

“Why not?” The man seems offended at that statement.

“How do I know you don’t work for the First Order?” This time Rem was the one to lean in closer.

“How do I know _you_ don’t work for the First Order?” The opponent reflected.

“Well, you look very First-Ordery to me,” Rem squinted. The guy put an arm to his own chest as if shocked by the accusation.

“Is it because of the outfit? Is it because I look like an edgy bitch? It’s called personal style, just so you know,” the guy comically brushed his cloak with his hands to get rid of the unexciting dust. 

Rem wheezed.

“Does everyone in the First Order look like an edgy bitch to you?” A huge smile was still on Rem’s face even though he tried his best to suppress it.

“Well, it basically is what they are, isn’t it?” the guy took a loud sip of his drink and leaned back with his arms crossed.

“My name is Rem,” he extended his hand for a handshake.

“Nice to meet you, Rem. You may call me Grey,” the guy shook his hand.

“Is it your real name, _Grey_?”

“Does it matter to you, _Rem_?”

Both of them laughed it off, and proceeded to discuss their deal.  

“I need to pick up some cargo at the Gilvaanen and deliver it to Kubindi,” Rem began.

“Well then you must be the luckiest man in the Universe.”

“Yeah, I get this a lot, today especially.”

“No, you don’t get it! These are rare, for reals, and I just happen to know them.”

It seemed that Grey’s eyes illuminated that dark corner where they were sitting. Rem decided to dim that light with the business side of this.

“Now here’s the deal. Three thousand credits, fifteen hundred now, fifteen – after the delivery.”

“I have a better deal for you, my friend. You have a ship of your own, don’t you? Well, how about this. I translate and interpret for you at Gilvaanen and Kubindi, and after the delivery you drop me off at Fest. Sounds good, doesn’t it?”

Rem frowned.

“Where’s the catch?”

“There is none.” Grey leaned in closer and spoke more quiet. “Listen, I’ve been stranded on this blasted planet without a ship for the past three weeks and I was trying to save up some credits by doing various filthy jobs around the port just so I can fly away with some smugglers like some kind of _criminal_. If you get me off of this revolving ball of sand it would mean much more than three thousand credits to me.”

"Now why shoud I accept this fishy deal with an edgy guy I've just met, instead of getting on my freighter and buying a protocol droid on another planet?"

Grey averted his gaze and put a finger to his cheek, thinking over the question. 

"I'm less annoying." The answer made Rem snicker.

“Alright then.”

“What.” Grey’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“You’re hired. Go get your stuff, I’ll meet you at the hangar number 125 in an hour.” After that Rem got up from his seat and gave Grey a smile.

“Don’t be late.” And at that he left the cantina and went back to the marketplace to get some provision. Grey was once again alone at the table in a dark corner of the cantina. He watched as Rem was walking out of the establishment, a huge goofy smile spreading on his face. There was no time to lose. He needed to pack his few belongings and run to the hangars. He finished his drink in a hurry, picked up his and Rem’s glasses and brought them to the bar.

“Triko!  Trikotrikotrikotrikotriko!” Grey almost screeched in excitement. He was jumping up and down behind the counter, which was ridiculous, taking into the account that he was surrounded by criminals and criminals only. The bartender finally turned to him and gave him a deep laugh which sounded like a clap of thunder.

“Gettin’ off this piece of crap planet, aren’t ya?”

“Yes! Oh Triko thank you so much!” It seemed that the guy was either about to cry or to combust. Grey paid for his drink and ran to the exit.

“I owe you, Trico! BIG TIME,” yelled Grey across the cantina when he already was at the exit.

“Fuck yeah you do!” answered the bartender, but Grey couldn’t hear him. He was already outside,  running towards a tiny bedsitter he had been renting for a month.

The setting suns illuminated the streets, which gave them a pink tint. Grey would miss Tatooine’s sunset the most, but he wasn’t ready to admit that yet. Grey couldn’t believe that this hot, dry, burning nightmare would be over soon, all thanks to a guy who wanted to buy a protocol droid. As he was approaching his apartment on the outskirts of the cosmoport, Grey felt like he was the luckiest man in the Universe.

 

 


End file.
